Chapter 3

3

To be fair, the history between us was complicated.

Years ago, when George and I fell in love, we wanted to get married right away.

My parents strictly opposed the union.

George came from absolute poverty, and my parents suspected he was merely hunting for my family's wealth.

To prove his worth, George worked himself to the bone.

He pulled twenty-hour shifts every day, desperate to prove his financial capability.

Moved by his relentless persistence, my parents finally approved our wedding.

After we married, George never slowed down his frantic pace.

He was so occupied with work that he didn't even show up at the hospital when I gave birth.

I ended up raising our newborn entirely on my own while he chased contracts.

Not long after, he was diagnosed with severe heart failure.

The doctors said his heart had suffered permanent damage from chronic, extreme overwork.

His cardiac muscles simply gave out after years of relentless strain.

When Dylan learned the diagnosis as a young boy, he screamed at me in fury.

"It's all your fault! You killed my dad!"

From that day on, our relationship turned into a frigid wasteland.

He even moved out of the family estate, claiming that breathing the same air as me brought him bad luck.

Consumed by guilt, I showered Dylan with everything money could buy.

I was even planning to officially hand over the CEO position of the Thornton Group to him this week.

A sudden thud snapped me out of my thoughts.

Something had slipped out from George's burial suit and landed on the grass.

I looked down and saw a worn, leather-bound journal.

Just as I leaned over to pick it up, Dylan shouted frantically.

"Don't you touch that!"

"That belongs to my dad! Keep your filthy hands off it!"

I paused, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Why? Is there something in here you don't want me to see?"

Dylan bit his lip, his eyes darting around in visible guilt.

"Dad explicitly said nobody is allowed to open it!"

I sneered at his pathetic attempt at secrecy and snatched the book from the ground.

"Then I definitely need to see what's inside."